With table that Croesus never had but might covet,
You live but to eat and to eat 'cause you love it;
And yet while you swallow great sirloins of meat
Complain like a beggar of nothing to eat.



He Discourseth of the Wherefore of Bachelorism.


"What else do we live for in this world beside?"

Alas! 't is the question of ten times a day,
That comes on the wind, or that floats on the tide,
And creeps in the houses where men go to pray.

What else do we live for than get such a wife
As this of the banker of our faint description?

What else is the end of our fashionable life
From which men escape as they would from conscription?

What else is the reason so few natives marry,
Than this, that extravagance leads on to ruin?

It is because few men are able to carry
The load of this baking and roasting and stewing,
Of buying and wasting extravagant meat,
Where women are dying of "nothing to eat;"